Die Flügel der Freiheit
by chibi-onna1
Summary: Nature continues to run its course. In a bid for survival, humans have evolved as a reaction to the appearance of Titans. But if it's merely a reaction, why does it seem so preordained? Semi-AU, no shifters, rating may change somewhere in the middle of the fic. Wing!kink. XD
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own Shingeki no Kyo- _*gets stepped on by Colossal-Titan-kun*_

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**A/N:** So, my first SnK fic. Wow. I hope no one kills me for this. Also, **_Die Flügel der Freiheit_** is German for _**The Wings of Freedom**_

Special thanks go to my darlings **lunardistance** and **xpyon** for providing me with enough material for inspiration whenever I suddenly stop writing. And to **surfacage** who has graciously agreed to make fanart for me with her beautiful beautiful art. _(ohgodimnotworthy)_ I love you guys.

And a heads-up. I don't update fast. Sorry, but I'd rather my readers wait than get anything from me that I deem less than worthy of their time or attention.

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**Die Flügel der Freiheit**

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**Chapter 1: The Fate of Humanity Shall on Their Shoulders Rest**

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_It wasn't the first time humans had been compared to roaches — filthy scum crawling from the earth's crevices, refusing to die out at every turn, eyesores spreading disease and malaise wherever they go. They were once an irreplaceable part of the cycle of life: a species fundamentally integral to the stability of Nature; yet later on proving to be the pests that they were, having long abused and outlived their usefulness to the order that governed the very movement of the universe. Too much destruction, the effects of which rippled out in an inevitable crashing wave that the earth was never ready for. Too many creatures pushed beyond the brink of extinction. Too many resources hoarded and wasted. Humanity had been too selfish, greedily consuming everything as if all of it was made solely to cater to its petty whims and endless vanity with a sense of entitlement in imagined self-importance. The scales had tipped too steeply, and Nature herself had to compensate for the gaping discrepancy in the Balance. Something—anything had to be done; and to Humanity's unfortunate demise the Titans were born, hastily created for the sole purpose of human extermination in a poor attempt to restore the lost equilibrium._

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It was chaos. Pure chaos. Screams of despair and terror rent the air as people ran inward the district, desperately hoping against hope that they would somehow survive this living nightmare. Stumbling and falling over each other, scrambling to get up and clawing at the space before them, eyes wildly shifting to find an escape—any escape—only to find themselves hoisted far above the ground, the darkness and putrid stench of a foul Titan mouth lingering in their senses as the orifice served as their final destination.

Heaven's abandonment had never been more palpable. No god or deity took heed of the anguished pleas for mercy—a cruel disregard if they existed at all. People perished, one after another, rendered deaf by their own helpless cries gurgled in blood, blinded by the blackness creeping into their vision until their consciousness faded away into the useless reprieve of nothingness, its comfort too little too late.

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Eren hung limply from Hannes' shoulder, tear streaks trailing from his dead eyes to his blood-flecked cheeks _(it was his mother's blood oh god how it rained upon him as the monster's teeth sawed her in half)_, throat hoarse from crying and calling out for someone who would never respond again, body spent from blindly lashing out at his saviour like a righteous ingrate. And everything in his world collapsed just like that with the stark realization of exactly how weak and insignificant he really was. The unwelcome enlightenment made everything else fade into a blur: how the three of them zipped past everything else and how suddenly they were settled on a vessel, meeting up with a worried Armin as Mikasa silently watched on, her deceptively strong hands firmly clutching the edge of his clothing. He felt dead dead dead and he couldn't, for the life of him, find it in himself to retake the white hot rage that was always just within his reach, churning and bubbling under the surface of his skin. He looked down at his hands, vision blurring every now and then as he was ripped apart by the rawness of his emotions. He unwittingly turned his gaze back in the direction from whence they came.

The light of the setting sun shone crimson through yonder. Eren morbidly thought that maybe it was heaven's rendition of the streaks and spots of red that senselessly _(it served no purpose so why why WHY?!)_ painted the streets and curbs and all the buildings and roofs left behind. The colour splashed across the sky in careless strokes, mocking him. The beauty he used to enjoy through his own window ironically left a bitter taste in his mouth the more his eyes swallowed every sickening hue. Hard emeralds tore themselves away with a vicious snarl, startling a man slouched nearby, the paranoia and trauma manifesting in the latter's dilated pupils and shaking hands. Eren paid him no more than a cursory glance. They were all the same, the others. Nobody deserved any of what happened, but they chose to be livestock, did they not? And what else is there for them if not to be devoured at the diners' leisure?

He turned his head away, unable to bear his own thoughts. His gaze fell on his hands once more. He was shaking, too, albeit for a different reason. Slowly, surely, he finally felt it: the familiar viscosity crawling in his veins like molten lava, the heavy pumping of his heart pushing it further along to spread through his whole being. Just as it came, the trembling went away and everything became still in his closed fists.

He would fight, oh yes he would. He may not be one of _them_ but he would do whatever it takes, give whatever it takes. It had been what he'd set himself on before, anyway.

He looked up as a fleet of shadows flew towards danger, the stalwart forms majestic against the canvas of the bloodied sky.

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_But let it not be said that Humanity has forever earned the scorn of Mother Earth; for despite the wrongs done to her by her prodigal children, she continued to allow their survival, going so far as to providing them tools to fight back and reclaim their place in this plane of existence, pitiful as it may be. No one knew how they were chosen. Things like that were overlooked in favour of the frantic need for protection. It was both a blessing and a curse: an expectation of a shortened life in bearing the weight of humanity's hope in exchange for a measure of power—the boon of evolution bestowed upon them._

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_tbc..._

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**A/N:** So... What do you think? Feedback would be very much appreciated. ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own Shingeki no Kyo- _*gets spun around by Titan!Annie via 3DMG*_

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**A/N:** First of all, thank you for all the follows, faves and reviews. They keep me going. You guys are wonderful. ;A;

I updated. Yay. Sorry for the long wait, but I did inform everyone that I update really slow, so... Um, anyway, enjoy!

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**Die Flügel der Freiheit**

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**Chapter 2: Strength in Vulnerability, Vulnerability in Strength**

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She knew, the moment she laid eyes upon him, that he was perfect. Her tears came unbidden—she couldn't be happier to hold him in her arms like this, heart full to bursting with love only she could give. She gazed upon his eyes, the verdant gems so bright and precious, as they opened to a world too tainted to deserve something so brilliantly beautiful. She took in the dark chocolate of his hair, its colour as rich as the confection she'd only ever tasted once before. She traced the smooth expanse of skin gently, almost afraid of breaking something so fragile even with the slightest of touches. She ran her fingers from the sides of his face, to his rosebud lips, to his delicate chin then down to the shoulders she was sure would one day be stronger than anything else. She held him close to her bosom, her hand on his back, stroking the soft—

The bliss on her adoring face melted away into horror.

'No… No! Nononononononono!' she thought, pain and agony encompassing her rapidly paling face, eyes widening as she took in every detail, her fears confirmed by the existence of the appendages she found on her little boy's back: the limbs whose existence elicited both pride and a hollow anticipation of oncoming loss.

Her heart broke at the revelation, yet she couldn't but stare in wonder and awe at the tiny wings, the downy feathers so soft and delicate, almost glowing ethereally in the sparse candlelight illuminating the room. So intent was her gaze that she did not notice her husband coming closer until he lightly touched her shoulder.

She looked up at him, her conflicting emotions reflected in her eyes.

"Please," she begged, "I just had him. Please don't take him away! Not there!" The desperation bled into her hoarse voice, evidence of the hours and hours of harsh labour she endured to bring this amazing miracle to life.

"No!" she sobbed, her grip on his wrist an iron vise. "I've never asked you for anything…. Please, I beg you, if nothing else, give me this… I'll never ask for anything more! I can't—I just… I just had him…" She was breaking.

She suddenly let go of her husband, wrapping herself around her baby instead, as if willing the child to once more become a part of herself to shield him from prying eyes that weren't even there.

Her husband knelt at her bedside, gathering his family in a protective embrace. He swallowed painfully. He couldn't stand to see her this way, and he would be lying if he said that he didn't feel the same. All his efforts, all his abilities, all his life had been dedicated to serve Humanity! Couldn't he be allowed one small selfishness?—he looked on as the little wings fluttered, seemingly sensing the distress in the air—except that this was no small thing.

Not when his son's wings were like this.

He slowly exhaled through his nose, gathering his scattered thoughts to a point of deadly focus. His actions from here on out would be tantamount to nothing less than treason. There would be no room for mistakes.

"You know I'll only be able to buy us some time," he whispered next to her ear, "Sooner or later he will want to be there. They all will, especially him. It's in his blood." A lengthy silence… And then, "It has been written."

"I know." She shook harder, stifling her cries. "Please."

He nodded his assent, eyes never leaving his son's ivory wings that would soon be no more.

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He knew, the moment he laid eyes upon him, that he was broken. He stayed still as can be while he resisted the urge to move, to twitch, to do anything—mind rapidly being filled by scenarios of possible events, actions and reactions way before they even occur (if they ever do). He met the wary gaze, the gray storms shining dangerously as they judged all of his tells, trying to decipher his intentions. He took in the black of his hair, its darkness standing out even against the shadows that surrounded them. He held his hand out slow and steady, almost afraid of scaring away something so wild and untamed even with the barest of movements. Still holding the hard stare, he appraised the other, noting how it was that each part of the boy's body was at the ready— from his piercing eyes to the thin line of his mouth, then to the shoulders that he would make sure to make strong enough to be able to carry the weight of the world, down to the sharp-looking tips of those wings whose feathers glinted like tempered steel would at night.

"You're wounded," he said, careful to keep eye contact, "I only want to help you, I promise."

The boy's form remained unmoved, his distrustful eyes ever so vigilant. A moment passed. Two. Three. Perhaps it was because his gaze never wavered, or maybe the other was just in that much pain; but whatever the reason, the boy slowly approached him, blatantly ignoring his outstretched hand. He let it fall back to his side.

"What do you want?"

He was startled by the question. It must have shown on his face because the boy spoke again.

"Everybody always wants something."

He sighed. So it's that way, huh? It couldn't be helped then. He had to come clean. These types will never take bullshit they could smell a mile away.

"I want you to enlist in the military and become Humanity's Strongest." Like you're meant to, he mentally added.

Another long pause passed between them. The boy's face was devoid of emotion. And then…

"Tch. Whatever."

A mixture of relief and sudden tiredness washed over him, but paid it no mind. An objective has been met, but they were still at the beginning.

At least we'll have more of a fighting chance now, he thought.

They walked through the side alleys and made their way to the Headquarters in a stifling silence. He led the young man through the barracks and straight to the medical bay. The door was open but he knocked anyway.

"Dr. Jäger? I have a patient for you."

The doctor looked up as they approached, his eyes widening at the sight of the new recruit's wings. He ushered the patient to the nearest bed and drew the curtains around them. He made quick work of assessing the damage. The newly-promoted commander raised an eyebrow. The boy gave no sign of being wary of the doctor, not even flinching when the latter touched his wings without asking. A far cry from just some time ago.

"It's not as bad as it looks. Your left wing is slightly dislocated, but at least there are no fractures. There are some open wounds, but nothing we can't fix. I'll just have to reset your carpal joint and bind it up in a cast. You won't be able to use it for a while. "

He took hold of the bones he was going to set. "This will hurt. At the count of three." He snapped the bones together at the joint at 'two', and the only indication that the boy felt something remotely recognizable as pain was a barely-seen twitch of his eyebrow. The doctor's apologetic smile as he bound the appendage was ignored, and the disinfecting of the flesh wounds was a silent affair.

He was offered pain killers, but he refused them all. He simply laid himself down on his stomach, turned his head away and closed his eyes.

The adults left at the rather rude dismissal, allowing the young one to rest as they moved away from the infirmary. They ventured outside and stopped at a fairly isolated tree. Dr. Jäger removed his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes, but not before wiping his sweaty and slightly shaking hands in his pockets. Erwin Smith leaned against the trunk.

"I found him in the slums. Other winged children ambushed him by throwing rocks. I intervened before he could retaliate. He would have killed them all. I saw it in his eyes." He paused, allowing Grisha to absorb the information. "They were making fun of him for being an orphan; and then condemned him for the colour of his wings."

Children can be a lot crueler than adults. He hated this human attitude of ganging up on the… different, despite never receiving such treatment himself. Erwin glanced at his own dirty blond feathers. He was one of the normal ones, after all. Gathered together, they would be a sea of mere brown and blond, with an occasional reddish hue blended in. Nothing at all like those of the boy they left alone.

"He will be Humanity's Strongest," Grisha looked away, his voice dull, "It has been written."

Erwin hummed in response, eyes fixed on the ebony feather in his hand.

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_tbc..._

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**A/N:** There. The second chapter. Um, I know I promised a lot of info here, but it didn't quite fit with what had to happen, so I had to redraft where everything is supposed to be. Sorry. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated. Please feed the author. ^_^

And oh! Here's my reply to **Boxenofdonuts**, my unsigned reviewer: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. I hope you liked this chapter too. ^_^


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